


respite

by ro_blaze



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, No Hero Timeline, look me in the eye and tell me those two dont deserve to live happily at least once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22321501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ro_blaze/pseuds/ro_blaze
Summary: in a lifetime where there's no hero and no war looming over them, the strings that bind them together pull harder and harder and like two magnets, a princess and a king come together
Relationships: Ganondorf/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 53





	respite

**Author's Note:**

> this goddamn ship has dragged me into hell and i come to yall, crying and sobbing, and wondering how you manage to handle it. 
> 
> this isnt beta-ed or even edited, its incredibly self-indulgent, pls go enjoy

They meet one beautiful spring evening, lanterns lighting the ballroom around them with a soft orange glow that reminds Ganondorf of the sunset kissing the desert horizon.

He’s barely fourteen, still nothing but a child, his long braid bouncing with every impatient step he takes. His mother sends him an amused grin over the rim of her glass and he rolls his eyes, annoyed. The celebration’s been going for more hours than he can stand and he wants nothing more than to run for the stables and head home. 

He opens his mouth, fully intending to tell his mother so, but his jaw snaps uncomfortably when fingers tap his shoulder lightly. Silk gloves brush the bare skin of his bicep. He turns around, murderous in his rage— 

—and comes to face the princess of Hyrule herself, staring up at him with hopeful eyes.

Princess Zelda recoils at violent aura he probably radiates and her smile disappears into nothing as she pulls her gloved hand back. (Are her shoulders shaking, or his vision playing with him?) Ganondorf feels shame burn his insides as he schools his expression into something more presentable. 

“Your Radiance” he addresses her, hating the way his voice cracks. The tips of his ears burn red. “I— I apologize for scaring you.”

Princess Zelda tilts her head in a peculiar fashion that reminds him of a bird. Then, she _smiles_ —a shy smile, insecure but sweet, and something in his young heart breaks at the beauty of her gesture. 

Her small hand comes to him, gloved fingers just a breath away from his arm. He can see her thoughts written over her face—the girl is like an open book for him.

“Please, do not apologize, Your Highness—it’s my fault for startling you.” The corner of her mouth lifts, showing just a bit of teeth, and he can feel himself smiling back at her.

The princess worries her bottom lip between her teeth and Ganondorf is suddenly reminded that she is a child, just as he is. She hesitates, unsure in herself, her mouth opening and closing. He waits for her as he’s never waited for anyone else. At last, she squares her shoulders, resolve flashing in her eyes, and her smile returns.

“I wanted to ask if you’d like to dance with me, Your Highness,” she asks him, voice sweet and kind.

His ears burn, at the softness of her smile, at the hopeful note in her voice. No one’s asked him to dance so far—by the Goddess, does he even _know_ how to dance these silly Hylian dances?—but Mother gives him a gentle nudge in the princess’ direction anyway. The princess lets out a small chuckle, covering her mouth with her hand, then looks up at him with hope in her eyes.

Her eyes, as blue as the desert sky at noon, brilliant and full of light.

“It’d be my pleasure, Princess,” Ganondorf says at last.

Princess Zelda lets out a small, delighted sound, then stops in her steps as if embarrassed by it. Ganondorf laughs and offers her his arm like he’s seen the lords in court do. The princess is small, but she nestles her hand on the crook of his elbow with ease and gives him a smile that all but makes him sway. 

They spend most of the evening dancing together, the princess’ dainty feet perched on his, her laughter ringing in his ears.

* * *

Hyrule Castle is just as imposing to him at eighteen as it was at fourteen. Ganondorf steers his steed towards the main gates, his head held high, the topaz jewel on his crown glimmering in the midday sun. 

The King welcomes him, warmth in his smile, and addresses him as equal. Ganondorf grips his hand firmly, one king to another, and despite everything, a small part of him preens and swells with pride. 

The King takes on himself to lead him inside—a gesture Ganondorf appreciates, even if he’d prefer staying with his people. A footman leads his sisters in, speaking to them in a soft manner, and the last thing Ganondorf sees before they disappear around the corner is Nabooru’s amused smile. 

They walk for a while, talking about travel and weather, and Ganondorf has to adjust his pace as to not leave his companion behind. The King of Hyrule is a slender man, youthful despite his age, but not even he can keep up with— 

His mind goes blank when a flicker of gold catches his eye and Ganondorf almost runs into a stone pillar. A peal of soft laughter echoes into the hall and small, slender fingers run over his arm. 

“Your Majesty” Princess Zelda says, amusement flickering in the midday sky blue of her eyes.

“Your Radiance.” He lifts her dainty hand and presses his lips to her knuckles, drawing another peal of laughter from her. The Triforce in him hums, a soft resonance of power and harmony, and he keeps hold of her hand a second longer than publicly accepted. Princess Zelda doesn’t seem to mind. “A sight for a traveler’s sore eyes.”

She beams at him, her smile wide and radiant, and the part of his heart she’d claimed since their first meeting sings. The King is still there, observing them with quiet, calculating eyes, but neither of them seem to notice it, wrapped up in their own world as they are. 

Soon enough, Ganondorf has Zelda fussing around him, scolding her father for immediately dragging him away without even a moment’s rest, then scolding _him_ when he insists he doesn’t need rest. Ganondorf doesn’t mind when she stomps her foot in a quite unladylike manner and pulls on his ear—after four years of only letters between them, he can’t take his eyes from her.

(“I missed you,” she tells him later that evening, tucked away in a corner of the royal gardens with him.

“I know,” he teases her, feeling bold and reaching out to tuck a lock of sunlight-colored hair behind her ear.

Zelda startles and looks at him, red spreading across her cheeks, and Ganondorf feels his grin widen. 

“I missed you too,” he reassures her, something in his chest clenching and breaking when she smiles at him.

She leans her head against his shoulder and he wraps his arm around her waist, shielding her from the cool night air with his warmth.)

* * *

Zelda insists she comes back with him to the desert. _I want to see the sands,_ she tells him in a hushed voice in their secret corner of the gardens. _I want to see your people and your land._

He’s unable to deny her. She might as well ask him for a star, for he’d gather all the lights in the night sky and lay them at her feet.

Her anger is as scary at sixteen at was when she was twelve, so her father doesn’t bother arguing with her too much—a prospect that greatly excites Ganondorf. A small part of him, buried deep beneath locked-up memories and half-remembered past, whispers about _death_ and _conquest_ and _bloodshed_ in his ear, but the young Gerudo king slams that door shut.

 _There is no hero in this timeline_ , he hisses to that dark voice, his whole body shaking with anger and just a trace of fear. _This is my life, my happiness._

The voice doesn’t speak again.

Zelda is eager to see the desert, urging her horse ahead when they pass the border that separates his people’s land from Hyrule’s provinces, and the youngest of sisters laugh as they race ahead to catch up with her. Nabooru falls back with him, a curious look in her intelligent eyes.

“What is it, pest?” Ganondorf asks, ignoring her knowing smile.

“Nothing, little brother” his bloodsister assures him. The corners of her lips lift further and he rolls his eyes. “I quite like this Hylian of yours.”

“She’s not mine,” he tells her, his fingers gripping the reins tight enough for it to confuse his horse. _But I want her to be._

* * *

Zelda and her escort stay in the valley for two months—the most blessed months Ganondorf’s ever known, even if it pains his pride to admit it. The princess’ company is the sweetest gift those cruel Goddesses of hers have given him—compared to her radiance, even the glow of his cursed Triforce pales. He drinks into her as if she’s the last drop of water in the desert, following her around despite his pride and tumbling about her dainty feet like a love-sick fool. They spend every second of the time they can together, sometimes exploring the fortress and sometimes just sitting together in his study and working on paperwork together. 

(He’s embarrassed when she finds the box where he keeps all the letters she’s sent him, red flushing up to his face, but Zelda holds his hand and tells him about the hollow under her bed where she keeps his letters. For that, Ganondorf decides to not tease her.)

“I don’t want to go,” Zelda tells him one late afternoon, her head fallen against his shoulder.

Ganondorf looks down at her and silently implores her to continue. He’d decided to use the last few days she has in the valley to show her his favorite places. They sit together on a small outcropping etched into the stone wall, the fortress stretching under them like a child’s playground. 

His eyes narrow when she says nothing, her small fingers clutched over his arm. When her right hand brushes his, the cursed markings glow softly. Inside his chest, his soul sings and reaches for her with a desperation that has nothing human in it, the resonance shaking him to his very core.

“... then don’t,” he whispers.

Zelda laughs—a choked up, wet sound, and it takes him a moment to realize she’s crying. Tears roll down her cheeks, tanned by the sun and covered in freckles, and drip down to where her hands are desperately clutching at his arm.

“Don’t you-” she hiccups softly, choking on her own words, “don’t you think I wouldn’t, only if I could?” Her voice rises in pitch, her nails digging into his skin. “Don’t you think, were I able to, I wouldn’t ever leave this land?”

“Zelda— ”

“Don’t _Zelda_ me!” she cries, dropping his arm so she can lace their fingers up. Their Triforces throb between them, a burning heat that puts the desert’s sun to shame. “Do not Zelda me, Ganondorf! You don’t understand what it is! You don’t understand what it to live in a society that values you only for the magic of your blood! You don’t understand what it is like to be used as a trophy and then throw aside the second something newer and shinier shows up! You don’t understand what it’s like to have centuries upon centuries of expectations thrust upon your shoulders!”

Ganondorf sits back and says nothing as Zelda breaks into sobs into his chest. His free hand—the hand that she isn’t clutching—runs up and down her spine, stroking her in a weak attempt to comfort her. It’s pathetic, he knows, but she clutches him all the tighter.

“There’s nothing I wish for more than to stay,” she whispers against the hollow of his throat. “Stay here, amongst people who look at me and see just Zelda and not the legends of the past. Here, away from court politics and stories about the Triforce and the ancient wars that still plague us. Here— ”

“Marry me.”

Zelda jerks up and looks at him. Her eyes are rimmed with red, tears trickle down her cheeks, a bit of snot runs from the tip of her nose. Ganondorf doesn’t think he’s ever seen something more beautiful. 

“Marry me,” he repeats, running his knuckles over her cheek. “Become my queen and stay here, with _me_ , until the end of time.”

Zelda smiles at him—a sad, quiet smile that doesn’t suit her at all, he thinks—and then kisses him. Her lips taste like the salt of her tears and the bitterness of her pain and he holds her tightly even as his heart breaks.

Four days later, she leaves off to Hyrule. Ganondorf stays until the shape of her disappears beyond the horizon, then turns around and heads to his study and his letters.

* * *

It’s three years—three years of thinking back about that single kiss, three years of letters with _I miss you_ ’s and _I wish you were here_ ’s and _I’d give anything to see you_ ’s, three years of begging and hoping against hope and cursing before Ganondorf is sent an invite to the royal court again.

He arrives like a king, his long hair streaming loose behind him, his cloak blowing in the wind of the Hylian night. He is no more a child, no more a youth unsure in his own place. He is Ganondorf Dragmire, King of the Gerudo and bearer of the Triforce of Power. 

And he’s come to take what is his.

The king welcomes him, just as warmly as he’s done three years ago. He talks about an alliance between their peoples, about strengthening the bonds of friendship, about trade deals and opening roads and building and travel. Ganondorf listens to none of it.

“Where is the Princess?” he asks, his fingers gripping the edge of the large wooden desk.

The king sighs—a low, long-suffering sigh. If he cared enough, Ganondorf would have smirked and wondered how many times the old man’s had that conversation. As it is now, though, all he cares about are a pair of midday blue eyes and a smile.

“She’s waiting for you in the sitting room,” the old king says with a tired smile. Ganondorf stands and walks over to the door without another word, whatever’s left from his heart after lifetimes and lifetimes of pain yearning to feel that resonance again. “She’s waited for you for a long, long time, I think.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Ganondorf tells him with a small nod of his head, then dashes down the hall.

* * *

The King’s sitting room is quiet when he walks inside, closing the door behind himself. Ganondorf looks around, the pull in his chest dragging him towards the open windows and the moonlight streaming from them— and there’s when he sees her, perched on the windowsill.

Princess Zelda lifts her head and looks at him. When she smiles at him, his breath leaves his lungs and he all but staggers, only catching himself when he’s about to topple over her. 

“Hello, _My_ King,” she says, her voice airy and light, her eyes glimmering with a kind of joy that puts the brightest gems of his people to shame.

Whatever’s left of his self-control snaps and Ganondorf gathers her into his arms, roughly pushing her into the closest wall and covering her mouth with his. Zelda gasps, her breath warm and sweet against his lips, then she melts into him. Small hands come to tangle into his loose hair, pulling his crown and throwing it somewhere on the side, and he is all too happy as her legs lift up and wrap around his waist.

He is acutely aware of how her breath hitches when he drags his mouth over the hollow of her throat and how she cries his name when he bites into the place her neck meets her shoulder. His name sounds like a prayer, coming from those holy lips of hers, and it takes all his strength to look up and meet her eyes.

“Gan,” Zelda whispers, hand stroking his cheek. She smiles at him—a slow, easy smile, the kind of smile you give to your spouse of many years each morning—and the piece of flesh he calls heart sings for her. “I missed you.”

“My princess.” Ganondorf cups her hand to his mouth and presses kisses to her fingers, her palm, her wrist. “My beautiful Zelda.”

She laughs, a sound more beautiful than anything he’s ever heard, and pulls him for another kiss, her ankles crossing at the small of his back.

Later, they lay together over one of the many seating couches in her father’s sitting room. The flimsy Hylian furniture creaks and moans under his weight, but Zelda laughs and assures him it’s going to hold up. Ganondorf isn’t one to doubt her, so he wraps his arm tighter around her waist and presses another kiss to her temple, smiling when she laughs.

“It was my idea, you know” she whispers against him, as if sharing a secret.

“Oh?” he asks, amused. 

Her shoes have disappeared sometime between the wall and the couch and so have his boots, her small, cold toes running over his calf in a manner that almost makes him laugh. Her loose hair falls around his face, stands of molten gold brushing his cheek. Her lips, bruised with his kisses, press against a spot under his ear and he bites back a groan.

Zelda surfaces and gives him a brilliant smile, her fingers running over his cheek. 

“I spent months trying to make him accept the match,” she says, her breath caressing his skin. “There were moments when I thought it’d be impossible.”

“I never doubted you.” Ganondorf cups her cheek, his eyes softening when she holds it against her face. “What made him break?”

Zelda’s smile turns bashful, the most lovely shade of pink spreading over her cheekbones.

“I might have threatened him to run away and come to you in the desert myself,” she says after a heartbeat, the pink glowing darker. 

Ganondorf throws his head back and laughs. The couch groans under them again, but he ignores the stupid piece of furniture in turn of holding his beautiful _bride-to-be_ tighter, burying his face into her hair. 

“And what a sight would that have been” he teases, then lightly drags his mouth over her bare shoulder. 

Under his caress, Zelda gasps and squirms, her nails digging into his arms. Ganondorf pulls back, satisfied with that response, and relaxes.

“I suppose no one is going to mind if we fall asleep here” Zelda muses out loud, curling herself against his chest.

“Mhm.” He runs his hand up and down her back. “And if they do, they’re gonna face the most horrifying sight in the world—an angry princess Zelda and her horrible bedhair.”

Zelda lets out a gasp and punches his shoulder in a very unladylike manner. Ganondorf picks the offending hand and kisses it anyway. 

“You’re horrible,” she says, but then settles down against his chest and tucks her head under his chin.

“You love me” he reminds her. 

There’s no answer for a while. Then, Zelda grips his hand.

“I do” she whispers, her breath warm over his skin.

Ganondorf falls asleep with a smile on his face, holding his bride-to-be against his chest.

(The couch does break, eventually, and Zelda doesn’t let him live it down until the end of their lives.)

**Author's Note:**

> come visit me at my tumblr, [pan-princess-levy](http://pan-princess-levy.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
